Ongoing thoughts on my martial studies and interests, which encompass almost everything.

Friday, June 5, 2015

A Taste of Banzo’s Sword

Matajuro
Yogyu was a son of a famous swordsman. But his father disowned him because he failed
to learn.

So
Matajuro went to Mount Futata where he found the famous swordsman Banzo.

So
the Master said to him, “So you wish to
learn swordsmanship under my guidance. But you cannot fulfill the requirements.”

“But if I work hard, How many years will it
take me to become a Master?” the youth persisted.

“The rest of your life,” relied Banzo.

“I cannot wait that long,” argued
Matajuro, “I am willing to undergo any
hardship if only you will teach me. If I became your servant, how long might it
be.”

“Oh, maybe, ten years,” Banzo relented.

“
If I work far more intensively, How long
would it take?”

“Oh, maybe thirty years.” Said Banzo.

“Why is that?”asked Manatjuro. “First you said ten years, they you say thirty years. I will under go
anything to master this art in the shortest time!”

“Well,” said Banzo, “In that case you will have to stay with me
at least seventy years.”

“Very well,”
declared the youth, understanding at last that he was being rebuked for
impatience, “I agree.”

Matajuro was told never to speak of fencing and never to
touch a sword. He cooked for his master, washed the dishes, made his bed,
cleaned the yard, cared for the garden, all without a word of swordsmanship.

Three years passed. Still Matajuro labored on. Thinking
of his future, he was sad. He had not even begun to learn the art to which he
had devoted his life. But one day Banzo crept up behind him and gave him a
terrific blow with a wooden sword.

The following day, when Matajuro was cooking rice, Banzo
again sprang upon him unexpectedly. After that, day and night, Matajuro had to
defend himself from unexpected thrusts. Not a moment passed in any day that he
did not have to think of the taste of Banzo’s sword.